Our Little Spot
by Todash
Summary: B.J. finds a little getaway where he and Hawkeye can have some alone time. Slash.


**Our Little Spot**

_(Author's Note: There's a completely innocuous exchange in the episode "The Merchant of Korea" where Hawkeye says, "See you for dinner, Beej?" And B.J. replies, "Our little spot." That dialogue inspired this story, although there's no connection to the episode otherwise.)_

* * *

"No casualties expected today," B.J. said as he bounded into the Swamp. "Just got the word from Klinger. Care to join me for a jeep ride?"

"Where to?" asked Hawkeye, but the answer didn't matter. If there wasn't going to be any work today, he'd get bored in no time. A jeep ride just about anywhere sounded fine to him.

"It's a surprise, but we can take this bottle of cognac that I pilfered from Charles's stash as an incentive. If you need one."

"I actually don't. But let's take the cognac anyway." He grabbed a couple of wine glasses and they set off for the motor pool.

B.J. drove for only a few minutes once they were out of camp. He pulled up in front of an apparently empty shack and got out of the jeep.

"Beej," Hawkeye said, confused and disappointed, "this is just a Korean shack like countless others. Except it's abandoned, but even that's not a shock. The Korean family that lived here probably took off when the war got too close. Happens all the time."

B.J. was undaunted. He ushered Hawkeye inside with a wave of his arm. Hawkeye surveyed the place, with its crude kitchen area and table and not much else, while B.J. started rummaging in the pack of supplies he'd brought with him. He produced a candle and lit it, then pulled out the bottle of cognac. Hawkeye watched him pouring the drinks with a look of amusement on his face. "This is really it? We came to an abandoned shack to drink some fancy brandy? You're losing your marbles, Hunnicutt."

B.J. sat down on the floor against a wall and Hawkeye settled in next to him. They clinked their glasses together, though God only knew why. Maybe because the cognac seemed to demand that kind of gesture. After they sipped in silence for a couple minutes, B.J. finally explained, "I saw it one day when I was coming home from fishing. I thought it would be a nice place to come sometimes… to get away…" He trailed off.

"Beej, Tokyo is a getaway. Seoul is a getaway. This," Hawkeye gestured with the hand not holding his drink, "is just some shack in the middle of nowhere. What are we getting away from?"

B.J. shrugged. "Oh I don't know. The entire rest of the camp. The PA announcements. Charles's pomposity, Klinger's scam du jour, the smell coming from the kitchen, the smell coming from the cesspool." He paused for a moment and then gave the real answer. "Prying eyes?"

Hawkeye studied him, unsure what to make of that last statement. He could feel the vibe, the electricity building between them, but this was so out of left field that he figured he must be interpreting things wrong. He searched his memory for when he might have gotten a hint that something like this was on his friend's mind, but he came up empty. "What exactly," he said slowly, "is going on?"

B.J. sat there, dangling his wine glass in his hands between his knees, his eyes never leaving Hawkeye's. There was a lengthy silence as he seemed to consider how to answer the question. Then at last he put an end to the mystery. As he spoke, he kept leaning closer and closer to Hawkeye in frustrating fractions of an inch. "I was wondering if…" leaning… "you might…" leaning… "be interested…" He never finished the sentence; he stopped talking and moving when his mouth got within inches of Hawkeye's.

Hawkeye was lost in sparkling blue eyes and the heady feeling of finally being given something he'd long wanted. He closed the tiny gap between them and took B.J.'s mouth in a scorching first kiss. Their wine glasses were dropped and forgotten. There was a moan, and Hawkeye wasn't even sure which one of them it came from. His hand blindly reached out and ran down B.J.'s side.

He pulled out of the kiss gently and hesitated, giving B.J. the opportunity to halt things right there if he wanted to. But B.J.'s mouth was back on his in an instant, hungrier than before. There were apparently no second thoughts to attend to.

Hawkeye straddled B.J. in one swift, self-assured movement. As their throbbing groins met, they both moaned. Hawk sank both hands into B.J.'s hair and pulled him into a deeper kiss. Their tongues danced, their breath quickened.

"There's a bed," B.J. muttered when he could. "Next room."

They somehow made their way there. Hawkeye didn't remember breaking their kiss and maybe they didn't. It wasn't so much a bed as a mattress on the floor, but what the hell. It was roomier than their cots back at camp. They collapsed onto it, their limbs wrapped around each other, clothing falling away. Kisses intensified, hands explored skin, bodies moved against each other with a passion nearly out of control.

"Slow," B.J. managed to say in between kisses, and Hawkeye had to smile. He was right, they had all the time in the world, that's why they were here. Hawkeye forced his motor into a lower gear. Lightly… leisurely… he ran an index finger down the center of B.J.'s chest to his stomach and then below, and he felt the shudder that passed through B.J.'s body.

"Slow it is," he said with a sly grin.

* * *

It was dark when they finally crawled out of their makeshift bed and got dressed. In the next room, B.J. began to gather up their supplies, freezing in place as he stared at something. Hawkeye followed his gaze. Somewhere in the midst of their passion, they'd knocked over the open cognac bottle and the pricey liquor had spilled out all over the floor.

B.J. looked at him, horrified. "Charles would flip his wig if he saw that."

"If he had a wig to flip."

"I didn't come to Korea to be your straight man, Hawkeye."

"No, that's just a perk."

They left the shack and climbed into the jeep in a companionable silence. As B.J. drove, Hawkeye reached over and took his right hand.

"Why?" Hawkeye asked.

"Why what?"

"You know what I'm asking. Why this?"

B.J. glanced over and smiled. "Seemed ridiculous to be afraid of love," he replied, before asking his own question. "Why did I deny the truth for so long?"

"Because you're married," Hawkeye said without thinking, and immediately regretted it.

But B.J. seemed unaffected by the reminder of his marital status, at least outwardly; his response conveniently glossed over the subject entirely. "It was time to start being honest with myself."

All was quiet when they got back to camp. Hawkeye followed B.J. into the Swamp, which was still Charles-less, and grabbed his arm just inside the door. Gently, he pulled B.J. in close, inhaling his scent, mostly sex and sweat; it smelled good. A shared secret. He planted a soft kiss on his lover's neck and said, "Thank you for an incredible day."

"Mmmm. Thank _you_." They collapsed onto their respective beds. Sleep was quick to come for both of them.

* * *

The war returned the next day and brought casualties with it. After six long hours of surgery, B.J. closed his last patient, peeled off his gloves and headed out of the OR. Hawkeye looked up as his friend walked past his table.

"See you later, Beej?"

He knew there was a smile beneath the mask. "Our little spot."


End file.
